Chapter 5: Alpha’s Eyes
1347 Words
I didn’t need to see her to know she was here.
The air changed before the door opened.
A shift in temperature. In rhythm. Like a wire being pulled taut inside my chest. Then snapped.
I stood in the war room, half-listening to a council update on border patrols when the feeling hit. A sudden alertness in my blood that made the edges of the world feel too bright, too loud. My wolf stirred, ears pricked.
I knew that presence.
Even after all these years.
Ayla.
I hadn’t said her name out loud in six years. Not to anyone. Not even to myself.
But my body remembered.
The pain remembered.
And now—she was here.
At *my* door.
Before anyone else moved, I was already walking.
Someone called my name behind me. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
I shoved open the double doors and took the main stairs two at a time, just as the guards opened the front gates.
She stepped through like she owned the damn ground under her boots.
Ayla Voss.
The girl I rejected.
The woman I never forgot.
She hadn’t changed, not really. A little leaner. Sharper, maybe. But the fire in her eyes? That was the same. If anything, it burned brighter.
She moved like she had nothing left to lose.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I stopped at the landing, where I had a clear view of the pack hall.
All eyes turned toward her.
The younger wolves—most of them barely pups when she disappeared—looked confused.
The elders? Shocked. Silent.
And me?
I didn’t breathe.
She didn’t flinch under their stares. She didn’t drop her gaze or bow her head. She just kept walking.
Straight to me.
The moment our eyes met, the bond sparked.
Weak. Faint.
But still alive.
And that scared me more than anything else.
Because I’d spent six years telling myself I made the right choice.
And she’d just walked in and shattered every damn lie I built to survive it.
---
**AYLA**
Lucien stood at the top of the stairs like a carved statue. Hands loose at his sides, shoulders straight, eyes locked on mine like I was a threat. Or maybe a memory.
The pack murmured around me, low whispers surfacing like ripples in a still pond.
“She’s back…”
“That’s her?”
“I thought she was dead…”
I kept walking.
The weight of their stares didn’t bother me.
They didn’t know me anymore. Not the real me.
They’d buried Ayla Voss six years ago.
But I’d been rebuilding her in the dark ever since.
When I reached the bottom step, I looked up and saw it—just for a moment.
In his eyes.
Recognition.
Regret.
And something deeper.
He walked down real slow, every move careful, like he was measuring each step. Lucien was always the scariest when he was like that. Calm. Not yelling or anything, just cold and steady.
“Don’t say it,” I said quietly, before he could speak.
“Say what?”
“Whatever rehearsed line you’ve had locked and loaded since I disappeared. I’m not here for that.”
His jaw flexed. “I wasn’t going to—”
“Liar.”
He stopped in front of me. Not too close. Not yet.
I wasn’t ready for that.
Neither was he.
I turned to the stunned pack.
“Triplets. Taken two nights ago. Someone left a message. I tracked the scent here.”
Gasps. A few too-loud whispers.
“Triplets?”
“She had *kids?*”
Lucien stepped in, voice rising just enough to slice through the noise.
“They’re *mine.*”
Silence dropped like a blade.
I let it settle.
Let it *hurt.*
“Congratulations, Alpha,” I said, voice steady. “Your legacy’s real. And stolen.”
He looked at me then, fully, like he was peeling layers with his eyes.
“You’re sure it was a pack? Not rogues?”
“The trail was too clean. Too coordinated. No scent markers I recognized. But they used wolfsbane and teleport runes. That’s not rogue work.”
Behind us, one of the Beta guards cleared his throat. “You’re saying someone *in Shadowridge* may have helped?”
“I’m saying someone with access to old blood magic helped,” I replied, voice sharp. “And that narrows the list.”
Lucien’s expression hardened. “We’ll find them. I swear it.”
“No.” I turned back to him. “*I’ll* find them. You can help—or you can stay out of my way.”
He didn’t flinch. “Don’t challenge me in front of my pack.”
“Then don’t give me a reason to.”
More silence.
Then a slow voice from behind the pack line.
“Sounds like the prodigal Omega still has teeth.”
Selene.
Of course.
She stepped into the open with her long blonde hair coiled like a noose around her neck and a smirk she probably practiced in the mirror. Every inch the politician’s daughter. Cold. Poised.
Threatening in the way a glass dagger is—beautiful, but meant to shatter.
“I didn’t realize we were entertaining ghosts,” she said, looking at Lucien, not me.
I smiled. “And I didn’t realize you could talk without your father’s hand up your spine.”
Gasps again.
Lucien’s face tightened. “Enough.”
I turned to him. “You want my help? Rein her in. Or she’s going to be your next problem.”
Selene laughed softly. “We’ll see about that.”
Lucien raised a hand. “Both of you—out of the hall. Now.”
I moved first.
Not because he ordered it.
Because I needed answers. And I didn’t trust anyone in that room to give them.
I followed him through the west corridor. Back to the war room.
As soon as the door shut, I just leaned back against it, arms crossed, not really sure what to do next. I just needed a second.
He didn’t sit. Just turned to face me.
'‘Look, I know you don’t trust me. I can’t really blame you for that. But I’m telling you, I’m going to find our kids. No matter what.’’
I studied him.
Hard.
He looked older.
Not tired. Not worn.
Just... heavier. Like power had weight and he’d carried it too long.
I nodded once. “Then we start now.”
Lucien opened a drawer and pulled out a thick folder. “You said there was a note?”
I handed it over.
He scanned it, frowning. “Ink is old. Parchment, not paper. Magical trace—low signature, but enough to run a test.”
I blinked. “You’ve got a reader?”
He nodded. “Two.”
And that—struck a nerve.
Because six years ago, I begged for resources. For help. For belief.
And he let me bleed alone.
“I’ll analyze the note,” he continued, unaware of the fire flaring in my chest. “Cross-check it with old alliance seals. If we’re lucky, there’s a trail.”
“And if we’re not?”
Lucien’s voice dropped. “Then we hunt.”
I wanted to believe him.
God, I did.
But belief had cost me everything before.
A knock broke the silence.
It was Lucien’s Beta—Ronan. His eyes shifted to me, cautious. “Alpha. The west ridge sentries reported movement.”
Lucien straightened. “Who?”
Ronan hesitated. “They’re not sure. But it’s fast. Moving low. Tracking something.”
“Where?”
Ronan glanced at me. “Near the old river crossing.”
My heart stopped.
That was where Calen first learned to shift.
I pushed off the door. “We’re going. Now.”
Lucien nodded. “Gear up.”
I was already halfway down the hall when I heard Ronan whisper to him behind me.
“She came back from the dead, and you’re still in love with her.”
And Lucien’s answer?
Soft.
Flat.
“I never stopped.”
- Writer
